


That Didn't Go So Well

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [8]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Arguing, Drunkenness, F/M, Fights, Jealous Tom Hiddleston, Jealousy, breaking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: The title says it all. We’re going to meet Alex (dun dun duuuuuun) and mayyyyyybe Jealous!Tom makes a comeback.





	That Didn't Go So Well

She’s been trying. She really has. And she’s succeeded for the most part, but it’s been tough.

It’s been two weeks since Tom’s jealously hit them and she’s really tried to not let it get to her.

But now, she’s afraid to talk about work, since maybe it could involve Alex. And at work she suddenly feels guilty when he makes her laugh.

Tom’s been trying too. But she can see the little flinch he tries to hide IF Alex does come up.

Now, she comes home from work and feels a little guilty, since she’s been so eager to say “Yes” when her coworkers asked her out today.

But then she remembers all the times she went out with Tom instead, and the guilt disappears.  
  
She wonders idly whether she should have said ‘yes’ to a party when Tom is away shooting or promoting. Would that only have brought the roaring monster of jealousy back? Or is it worse like this, when he’s here?

Dammit, why does she even have to think of things like that? It’s not fair!

Her thoughts are interrupted when two arms snake around her waist from behind and a strong body presses against her.

“Hey. You’re back early.” Tom sounds so happy it makes her stomach flutter.

“Mhm.” She sinks into the embrace with a happy sigh, letting Tom pepper her neck with kisses before she turns her head for a real kiss.

They fall into it and it takes them a long moment to surface, blinking at each other. It’s still like this. Kind of magical. Even after a few years of being together.

“I’m glad you’re home early,” Tom says, nuzzling some more. “I thought we’ll have a movie night. Haven’t had one for a while, have we, love? I got us four totally new movies and you can choose which one you’d like to watch.”

Uh-oh…  
  
“Uhm…” He’s still nibbling at her neck and it makes it kind of hard to concentrate. “That’s a lovely idea.”

“Hmhm, thought so, too.” His voice is so deep and lovely and for a moment she thinks to just forget the party - and the movies - and just jump straight to bed with him.

“But, I don’t think I have time tonight.” She feels him stiffen in a not-so-good way.

“Oh. Okay. Do we have anything planned?”  
  
Uh-oh, times two.

She wiggles and feels Tom’s arms drop away so she can turn to face him. “Not we.”

He stares for a moment, then gives her a slow blink.

“Oh. Okay.”

Ugh, for someone so eloquent, sometimes he can be infuriatingly monosyllabic–and manage to convey a great deal in a word or two.

But she will not let him send her on a guilt trip. No, sir.

“The gang from work wants to go out, and when they asked me to join, I said yes.” She knows she damn well doesn’t have to justify herself, but she adds anyway, “I let them down so many times to spend time with you that it’s a miracle they’re still asking me.”

Tom nods slowly, almost more to himself. “Sounds like…fun. We can always watch the movie some other day. Or I could just watch one myself this evening, see if it’s any good.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Go on then, darling, get ready for your bar hop or whatever lovely outing they’ve planned.”

She automatically starts walking towards their room, but something doesn’t sit right with her. This is too easy, isn’t it? And does she imagine it or did Tom sound carefully condescending just now?  
  
She should really not have to consider so many things, she thinks as she prepares for her shower.

Tom is a grown-up man, who can tell her, if he doesn’t agree with her. She’s also made it clear that she’s friends with her coworkers - and Alex.

Ugh. She doesn’t have time for this, she needs to get ready.

Meanwhile, in the living room Tom sits down on the couch carefully. Okay, she’s going out today. With ‘the gang from work’. He can easily handle that. Okay, maybe not ‘easily’ but he can somehow handle that.

Hell, he’s told her he could handle that, and he damn well can. Maybe he should pick her up tonight? He doesn’t want her to be alone in a cab. Or - and he scolds himself for that thought about three seconds later - share a cab with… with one of her friends.  
  
Yes. He can do that. Should totally do it.

“Man up, Hiddleston.” Now…to find a way to let her know about his idea without having her eat him for dinner will be a challenge. But hey, when hasn’t he welcomed a little challenge?

Tom gets up and pads into their room, catching a tempting eyeful of her in only her underwear and on the way into their bathroom.

“Need help with your shower, love?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips.

Please say yes, he wills her silently. He wants her–god, when does he ever not?–but apart from that, something inside him needs that connection, the one that runs so much deeper than physical needs.

She turns to him at the door, making his mouth go dry. For a moment, he can see it in her face: the same hunger and need. But then she offers him a half-grin and a shake of her head.

“Nice try, Tom. But I know what your ‘helpfulness’ usually leads to. And I really don’t want to be late.”

She disappears, and Tom pouts. So, getting ready for the night out with the gang is more important than a bit of sexytimes with him.

Fine.

With a tiny huff, he plonks himself on the bed and waits.  
  
She did see the want in his eyes, of course she did. But it’s also true what she said. She’ll never be ready in time for the pub, if she lets Tom ‘help her’ with the shower. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want him though.

She gets ready in record time, coming out of the bathroom with her towel, still dripping wet, to find Tom sitting on their bed. Pouting.

He looks up when he hears her, and she can see his eyes darken a little. He’s still pouting, though.

“You know,” she says as she walks closer to him. “You look kind of cute when you pout like that,” she smirks.

She stops a few inches in front of his legs, looking down at him. “Why that face, Hiddleston?”  
  
“Maybe I just wanted you to call me cute?”

She snorts softly. “I said, kind of cute.”

There’s that odd little shift in his eyes again. “Well, these days I’ll even settle for ‘kind of cute’.”

Huh, now what’s that supposed to mean? “Did I mention you’re also kind of annoying?”

Tom claps a hand to his heart, gasping theatrically. “Cruel woman! Oh, how you wound me and trample on my ego.”

As abruptly as he sometimes does it, he slips from sulky and then joking to way-too-sexy, tugging her closer with a firm grip on her towel.

“You’re dripping wet, love.” Damn it, there’s that deep rumble and accent. Never fails to get her. The innuendo isn’t lost on her either.

Trying to keep her tone steady and dry–and failing somewhat–she retorts, “Well, that’s what happens when you take a shower, you know?”

Tom’s hand wanders from the towel’s edge to her thigh, and only his thumb begins to stroke over the water drops softly. “Want to stop being so cruel and let me dry you at least?”

“I…” She has to clear her throat and reorganize her brain when his hand slides from the outside of her thigh to the inside. His fingers dig in for a second, then inch higher. “Uhm, I…”

“C’mon, let me help you.” Shit, now his voice is a low, seductive purr she can feel thrumming through her.

Her next word chokes on a moan when Tom presses his lips to her other thigh and flutters the tip of his tongue over her skin to lick up a drop of water.  
  
“You taste ‘kind of’ sweet,” he murmurs against her bare skin, his lips wandering higher, as his fingers do the same.

“You’re not playing fair,” she huffs out, gripping on and holding on to his shoulders.

His lips leave her for a moment, as he grins up at her. She could swear, at this moment he looks exactly like when she fell in love with him.

“Never said I would. So… how to… rub you dry…” he whispers and inspects her as if she was a riddle to solve.

“No… rubbing, Hiddleston.” But her hands wander to his hair and she tugs a little, while Tom’s fingers come dangerously close to her center.

She needs to stop this now, or she’ll never make it out of the bedroom.  
  
Tom tilts his head as her grip isn’t all that firm. “No? But a little rubbing can go a long way.” He smirks, and for a moment, he looks like a hybrid Loki. “And you are positively soaked, in desperate need of a little…rubbing. Or drying.”

Before she can say something–and she has absolutely no idea what–his mouth is back on her thigh. This time, she doesn’t get a flicker of his tongue; she gets a thorough lick that wanders dangerously high. And just when she’s proud that she hasn’t let out that whimper in her throat, his index finger makes contact. It’s only one slow, soft rub over her folds, but it’s enough to make that tell-tale whimper escape.

Tom makes a sound of his own, something low and growly.

His mouth wanders half an inch higher, now to nibble.

God, if he moves it another fraction higher, she’ll let him have his way and never make it to the party.

The party!

“No.” She manages to gasp it somehow–and Tom freezes instantly, to his credit.

“No?” He lifts his head, pupils dilated, his breath so close to where she wants him stirring the fire inside her.

Ugh, why does it have to be so hard to resist him?! “No, Tom. Not now.”

“Okay.” She sees him swallow, feels him brush his nose over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. His hand wanders down in a slow brush that’s almost as arousing as its caress up was.

“But tonight you’ll be mine. Because you want me. You need me. And I want and need you.”

Another nip to her flesh, this one stinging nicely.

“Ye-esss.” It’s more of a breathy sigh than an actual word.

“Yes?” A kiss this time, closer to her knee as his fingers caress the skin behind it, tickling slightly. “Let me pick you up from that party, love. I’ll get you home in no time and make the waiting worth it. Delayed gratification, remember?”

Her brain is fuzzy, and when his hand lets her leg go, she sways a little. “Uhuh. Yes, okay. Yeah.”

“Perfect.” Another purr. A promise.  
  
“Perfect, yes,” she sighs and takes a careful little step back. She feels a little shaky and doesn’t know whether to love or hate Tom for that.

He boyfriend still sits on the bed and now smirks at her. It’s his own now, no mixture of him and Loki. “Still have it,” he almost sings.

“You…” Then she realises what this was. She gasps a little, but somehow can’t really find it in her to be really mad at him. Was he that scared to suggest something like picking her up? “You little shit. You’re so getting that back tonight.”

With that she goes to the closet to get dressed, but from the corner of her eye she can still see Tom standing up from the bed, very obviously adjusting himself, and grinning.

“Can’t wait.”  
  
Muttering curses to herself, she roots around for some clothes. When she turns around, Tom is still there, watching all too eagerly.

“Out. Shoo.”

He gives her a parting smirk and saunters out whistling, his hands in his pockets.

* * *

 

With an eye roll and a reluctant chuckle, she grabs her favourite top–comfortable but classy enough to wear out–and black jeggings. Whirling through the motions of getting dressed and applying a hint of make-up, she emerges slightly out of breath.

Tom is on the couch in the living-room, one foot propped up on the other knee, leg bouncing. The nervous movement she doesn’t see often stops the moment she approaches.

Why the hell is he frowning now?

“You’re going out…like this?!” Voice rising together with his brows, he gives her another once-over, looking pretty confused.

She arches one of her own brows.

“Why? Do I have a hole in my jeggings? Food on my top?”

Hectic blinking. “Err…well, no.”

“So???”  
  
He wasn’t prepared for that. He mentally prepared himself to stare and swallow and fight the urge to tell her ‘less make-up, longer skirt, less cleavage’.

She always dressed beautifully, which isn’t hard given the fact that he thinks she’s absolutely beautiful in - and without - anything. But she’s always glammed up when they’re out together, going to meet his coworkers or friends in Hollywood or London.

She doesn’t wait for his reply, but rushes to get her shoes instead. Tom swallows. No high-heels, but her beloved bright green Converse sneakers make an appearance. She’s last worn them when they went out to the supermarket.

“You’re just…” he starts and tries to find the right words to say. “I thought you’d be all glammed up.”

“Ugh,” comes her reply, as she finishes fixing her shoes and looks up at him. “I’m so glad I don’t have to be waxed and polished and put tons of make-up on my face,” she laughs. “This isn’t some Hollywood party or a ‘look how sophisticated I am’ - theatre premiere. It’s just me.”

She doesn’t see the look on his face as she’s too busy rummaging around her purse.

So. What does that mean? She isn’t herself when they go out?  
Tom gets up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He has the feeling he’s digging his own grave again, something he seems to be doing non-stop these days–just like in the beginning of their relationship when everything was new and he was always so ridiculously scared she would leave him.

Something tells him he should give her a kiss goodbye–preferably one with tongue and teeth that makes it clear just whose girl she is–but of course he can’t let matters rest.

“Are you saying you hate going out with me?”

“Huh?” She looks up from lacing up her second shoe, bewilderment written all over her face. “Why would you say that?”

“Well…” He gesticulates. “Seems like whenever you’re out with me you’re all dolled up but today you can be,” he makes quotation marks with his fingers “just you.”

Instead of meeting his eye or simply snarling at him, she looks down, then takes an awfully long time to finish tying that lace.

“It’s different. I don’t need to boost my confidence or hide myself when I go out with the gang. It’s only some beers and drinks and games and harmless fun. I can, you know, switch off and relax while running on auto-pilot, without worrying that I’m stepping on someone’s toes or that I’m going to be splattered all over the papers and harm your reputation.”

Tom swallows. So his suspicion was right. She doesn’t exactly love going out with him. But how come she’s never mentioned it, never complained earnestly apart from a sigh here and there and some sassy jokes?

Aren’t they telling each other their thoughts and feelings anymore?

Before he can say something, she opens the door, half-turning back to him.  
  
“Do you still want to pick me up?” she asks, and Tom can’t decide whether she seems to like that idea or not.

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

A sigh, then a little shake of the head. “I’ll text you the address. If it’s getting too late, I’ll just share a cab.”

He’s ridiculously fast to tell her otherwise. “That won’t be necessary. Call me please. Or text me. I’ll be there.” He means so much more than just ‘being there’ to pick her up. Tom hopes she understands.

Her little swallow tells him she does. “Okay. Bye,” she says with a tiny wave before walking through the door.

The door isn’t fully closed as he calls after her, “Bye! Have fun! I love you!”

He gets a “Thank you” back, before she leaves.

The soft thunk-click of the door closing coincides with the heavy feeling inside him that drops to his stomach.

‘Thank you’. Not ‘Love you too’. Is she still that mad at him?

Cursing, Tom returns to the living-room. Three paces to the left, turn, three paces to the right, turn, and back.

It’s so hard to think straight these days, to separate heart from brain, hurt from reason. Sure, he knows she couldn’t have invited him to join them. After all, this is a night out for co-workers. And sure, she was in a hurry. He can understand that, even respect that, he tells himself. But…

Her words echo ominously. ‘Drinks and games and harmless fun’. What games? Will those involve physical contact with…Alex? Will there be flirting or shared grumbling over partners left behind at home? He pictures her leaning back with a sigh, chugging beer straight from the bottle and groaning, “God, it’s nice to just be me and unwind”, and someone–well, Alex–saying in fake commiseration, “If you weren’t dating a moviestar, you could always be yourself”.

Tom rubs his chest, his heart aching a little. With a scowl, he plops down on the couch and switches on the TV, zapping from channel to channel without really seeing a thing.

* * *

  
They’re at the second pub two hours later and she’s sitting at the bar, a bottle of a German beer brand in hand. It’s great to have some kind of ‘home’ with her, even if it’s just beer.

Alex approaches her, grinning and sitting next to her. “Hanna, you should look 100 percent happier being out with your favourite people.”

She grins at him, a little at least, and looks around, seemingly searching. “Can’t find my favourite people anywhere.”

“Oh ha ha.” He nudges her shoulder a little. “No, honestly. Why are you staring ahead so glumly?”

‘Glumly’? She didn’t know that. What she does know is that she’s scowling at her beer bottle now, before taking a generous sip.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

Alex shakes his head, his grey-blue eyes almost sparkling while grinning. “No, that can’t be it. Mary from accounting says you look like this since you’ve walked in.”

She raises a brow. “Mary from accounting doesn’t know anything,” she answers as she tips her bottle towards him. She tries to make it light, but somehow he catches up.

“What’s wrong, Hanna?”  
  
She sighs. “Nothing. You don’t want me to ruin the night out by whining and making mountains out of molehills.” Trying out a jovial grin that sort of fails, she nudges his shoulder back.

“How’s your lovely fiancee, Mr. Drop-to-my-knees-and-make-her-cry-tears-of-joy?”

Alex regards her for a long moment, and for a second there he reminds her uncannily of Tom, who always seems to be able to look right into her soul and call her bluffs too. it’s one of the reasons why she loves Tom. He just ‘gets’ her–well, not always…and not so much lately.

“You don’t wanna talk about it, huh? Okay. But you know I’m here if you do.” Alex settles in more comfortably, propping a foot up. “Evie is great. Working too hard, as usual. And gushing about the tiny newborn little daughter of one of her patients.” He grins somewhat goofily. “I think it might be awakening some maternal instincts in her.”

She sets her bottle down, soaking up his happiness. “Omg omg, are you seriously considering children already? Tell. Me. Everything.”

Alex opens his mouth–and her phone chimes, signalling a message.

“Sorry,” she mumbles as she takes it out to look at it. “It’s terribly rude.”

But Alex just smiles. “Go ahead. Evie’s been texting me all the naughty stuff too tonight,” he winks and then wiggles his brows.

She can’t help the disbelieving snort that escapes her, which makes Alex frown at her. “Sorry, but I’m fairly certain that’s not it.”

> Tom: Are you having fun, darling?

She frowns at her phone. It’s only been two hours and she said she would text. Is he… no, he can’t be checking up on her. He was - sort of and reluctantly - okay with her going.

> I am. But it’s going to last a little longer. I’ll text you!

“Okay, you should definitely look happier,” Alex says next to her. “Did something happen?”

She shakes her head. “No. Everything’s fine.” She plasters a smile on her face. “So. Children. Continue.”

Alex signals for the waiter and orders them two drinks. “I think you need something stronger than beer tonight,” he says, and Hanna shrugs her shoulders. Why the hell not? She does feel a bit like drowning her sorrows–though she’s not going to emulate Tom and get stinking drunk, no, thanks.

She watches Mary and Tim from advertising dance and get a bit too handsy, grimacing at the consequences she knows that’ll have.

“Right, children,” Alex says once their drinks have arrived. “Evie and I think we want to have a whole load of them.”

She stretches her grin wider. “Enough for your own soccer team?”

He chuckles merrily. “Not quite that many, nope. Four or five maybe?”

When she goggles, he blushes and stutters a bit. “Yeah, I know, that’ll be a lot of work. But she loves children, and I love her, so we’ll just make it happen and deal with the consequences.”

Hanna has about a dozen comments she wants to make regarding responsibility and other issues, and Alex IS her friend, but somehow he doesn’t look like he’d listen to logic. So she only nods and grunts and smiles some more.

“How about you and Tom? Any children planned for the near future?”

Her sip of alcohol goes down the wrong way, and Alex slaps her back while she chokes and coughs.

He laughs at her. “Okay, it’s either totally right and you’re embarrassed because you’re practicing so much or,” he stops as she looks up, still coughing a little. “Or not.”

“Uhm,” Hanna starts, only slightly calmer. “We haven’t discussed that much lately.” Of course she wants children. Of course she wants them with Tom. She just isn’t sure if they’d be ready for that yet.

Much to his credit Alex only says, “Okay,” before watching the dance floor as well. “Oh Tim,” he sighs. “You’re so going to regret that.”

Hanna nods slowly and downs the rest of her drink. “Tom is jealous,” she bursts out then, out of nowhere. She keeps staring straight at Mary and Tim and tries to ignore the look Alex shoots her. Goodness, why did she say that?

Before either of them can say something else, her phone chimes again.

Tom has moved from the couch to the bed because everything currently annoys him. The TV–nothing to watch–the living-room in general–not enough space to pace–and the kitchen–he craves some snack to counter the frustration but nothing seems tasty alone.

Sitting with his back against the bedhead and his legs stretched out, he literally twiddles his thumbs and tries to distract himself by silently reciting snatches of dialogue from his latest script.

Every minute or so, he glances at the phone lying innocently next to him on the sheet. He knows it’s silly, but he’s texted her again. And this time, she’s not answering. Five minutes have gone by–not that he’s counting, mind you–and still nothing.

Why? Is it because he’s sent her a selfie with a pathetic, pouting expression and holding her favourite potted orchid, saying “We miss you”? Is he getting on her nerves? His jaw clenches. Or is she having too much fun with Alex? Or…god, maybe she’s dancing with that man, letting him touch her and throwing her head back to laugh at some lame joke?!

With a muttered “fuck it all”, Tom grabs his phone, shoots off the bed and marches to the front door. He throws on his black cardigan, grabs her favourite jacket and the keys, and leaves. He’s in desperate need of fresh air.

“Hanna,” Alex sighs next to her, again.

She’s still ignoring him. “No, it’s okay.”

He snorts and Hanna shoots him a look. How dare he?! The only one allowed to snort at something she says, is Tom. And not even him at the moment. “You can’t say something like that, then scowl at your phone, down a shot and ignore me. So, Tom is jealous. In general?”

She can’t help but send him a pointed glance. “No.”

“No?” He fumbles for a bit. “Oh. Ooooh. Oh, shoot. Oh no.”

Hanna can’t help but laugh at him. “Ah, you get it. So, excuse me, but I can’t really speak about this. I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

Alex puffs out his chest a little. “Well, I do feel a little special if someone badass as Loki is jealous of me.”

She snorts. “He’s not Loki in real life, you know?” Well, most of the times he’s not, but maybe she shouldn’t tell Alex everything about the things they do in the bedroom.

Alex leans in to whisper in her ear, “I think he actually is.” He smiles at her laugh. “But honestly. I get it.”

She snickers. “Not full of yourself at all, huh?”

“Totally humble,” he grins. “But really. Evie’s been jealous of you as well. Think about it. We’re together like… nine hours of the day. We share jokes and laugh and go out. Some more than others.” He shoots her a playful glare. “Doesn’t it show he’s in love with you? Afraid of losing you? Wants to spend more time with you?”

“Huh,” is all Hanna can think of. Maybe he does have a point. Doesn’t solve anything about that trust issue they seem to have, though.

“You should also totally answer that text. In that poor man’s head, we’re probably banging in the bathroom or something.”

Her eyes widen so much she can almost feel them pop out of their sockets.

Alex snickers while rising frm his seat. “Tell you what, why don’t I give you a minute to sort this out? I’m gonna see whether Peter from accounts has finally got the bartender’s number, and you text your man. But I swear, when I’m back at the table, you’d better not still be sulking or I will drag you to the dancefloor and give Tom a reason to be jealous.”

She elbows him in the ribs. He knows she doesn’t dance. Well, only ever with Tom, who makes her awkward body magically move the right way.

Rubbing her forehead, she eyes her empty shot glass and then her phone. He’s probably right, Tom might be interpreting her silence in the worst way. Ugh. Why did he have to text her at all?

Grumpily, she opens the message–and then goes “aaawww” despite herself. With an eyeroll and a grin, she types a reply.

> Bored without me, Hiddleston? Here’s something to keep your brain occupied. Solve the following riddle: Is Hanna - A) banging Alex in the bathroom? B) tapdancing on the table while her co-workers stuff money into her pockets? C) trying to have a nice time with people she likes, and planning on getting a lil tipsy?

  
Tom almost runs into traffic when he hears his phone chime with an incoming message. With an apologetic - and so very typical - ‘sorry’ for the driver he makes it to the other side of the street.

And then almost has a heart attack as he reads the message. He starts sweating and panting and clutches a hand to his chest.

Tom scolds himself right the next moment. She’s joking right? Or maybe even flirting, somehow? Of course, she’s not banging Alex in the bathroom. Tom knows that. Right. He calms himself down and even grins as he writes back.

> One would hope for option C). And you ARE cute and horny when you’re tipsy. Though, option B) would be okay, we need the money. Go get them, whoop! And I’m always bored without you. There’s nothing good on the TV. I’m happy you’re having fun. And eat, if you want to drink! And don’t forget to send me the text to pick you up. And the address!

He ignores option A or mentioning Alex in any way. He also hopes the text doesn’t seem too desperate. Though, at this point, he almost doesn’t care.

He re-reads her message entirely too many times, then his. Then stops cold in his tracks and bumps into a man who shoves at him with a muttered curse.

“Sorry. Terribly sorry.”

He re-reads it again, leaning against the wall of a building with a groan. She DOES get cute and horny when she’s tipsy. And she’s going to get tipsy–and horny!!!–in Alex’s presence. And Tom’s not there…and…and…

“Idiot.” He rubs a hand over his face and takes a few deep breaths.

Why is he so goddamn unable to get a grip on himself and trust her? His free hand clenches into a fist as a long-forgotten–or probably just (un)successfully suppressed–memory pops into his head. Of the last girl he dated, who never made him suspect a thing. Until Tom hopped on a plane one day to surprise her, only to find her getting down and dirty with her neighbour on the balcony.

“Stop. Stop it right there,” he tells himself, which earns him a uneasy stare from a passerby who quickens her steps. Tom has taught himself to leave the past in the past. He KNOWS he can’t and shouldn’t compare his ex with Hanna. He hasn’t even permitted himself to think of that whole experience the past few years. Why the hell is it all rushing back now?

She grins at Tom’s response. It’s so obvious he’s been waiting. It’s also obvious that he’s a little dramatic.

Yes, the right answer is - surprise - the most boring one. I WILL remember to text you, I’ll eat, if I drink more. I also am cute when I’m tipsy and I promise I’m horny just for you. Now, go read a script or something, I have to stop Mary from making a mistake. So much gossip to tell you later!

“Ah, there’s the grin I’ve been waiting for,” Alex greets her as he comes back. “We’re gonna head to the next pub. Peter got that number and now he’s torn between being embarrassed and staring at her all night,” he then chuckles.

“Okay,” Hanna says as she stands up. “I’ll grab Mary, you grab Tim.” With that she walks past him, but not without turning around one more time. “And thank you.”

Alex winks. “Don’t know what you mean.” Then he looks past her towards the dance floor, scrunching up his face a little bit. “I’m not grabbing anyone of them.”

Hanna laughs at both his answers. “Man up, Alex.”

* * *

Almost two hours later, Tom isn’t in the best of moods but really REALLY trying to not let it show.

Half an hour ago, Hanna sent him a text with the address of a pub, rather far from where he was. In words that barely made sense and indicated that she is indeed tipsy now.

Ten minutes ago, he got another text saying “whoooooopsie, gave u the wong adress. we at this 1 now”, with a different address much closer to where he was. So he circled back with quicker strides, gritting his teeth with every new image in his head. Of her drunk rather than tipsy, schmoozing that co-worker. Of her left by her friends to wait for him, only for some drunk arse to grope her while she’s alone and defenseless. Of her forgetting he’d promised to pick her up and walking home alone. Of her sharing a cab with Alex and whoever that Mary who needs to be saved might be.

“Cut. It. Out,” Tom scolds himself. He spots the pub across the street and takes a few deep breaths. He’s a professionally trained actor with a Golden Globe to his name–how difficult can it be to walk in there with a carelessly jovial smile, make some small talk, and whisk his girl away???

He opens the door, coughs at the overwhelming smell of smoke, booze, sweat and various colognes, and squints at the mayhem inside the pub. The first thing he hears once his senses have adjusted to the chaos is Hanna’s uninhibited laughter mixing with that of another man, and anxiety turns to something bitter that claws at his insides.

There she is. Right by the dance floor - the DANCE FLOOR, Hanna doesn’t dance - laughing with a guy that looks a little bit like Jamie Dornan (who’s actually a nice guy and whom he feels a little sorry for now, as he’ll never be able to look at him the same) and who is doing all kinds of silly dance moves, even spinning her around once or twice.

There’s a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. One that Hanna grabs to take a drag. She also doesn’t smoke.

She’s tipsy indeed, her hair a little messy, and the nose scrunched up like she doesn’t fully understand what’s happening. She looks cute, though, like Tom knew she would.

Tom takes a deep breath, regretting it a moment later, and clenches his jaw. Okay. That must be Alex. He’s corrupted her. Great. He knew it. He knew this would end like this.

He plasters a smile on his face and makes his way towards them. That guy that must be Alex sees him first, stopping mid-laugh with a tiny “Oh” forming. He nudges Hanna - actually touches her - and motions for her to turn around.

With the cigarette still in hand she does as her friend tells her, turns around, and stops short. Then a goofy grin breaks out. “Tom!” It’s a little squeaky, but it’s genuine as far as he can tell. She wraps her arms around his middle, still grinning, and looks up at him. “Hi, Tom!”

He hopes his smile at least looks genuine, it doesn’t really feel like it.

“Hi, love.”

Tom doesn’t have a clue how to handle this, but he knows one thing. She’s his. HIS, dammit, corrupted or not, tipsy or not.

And so he goes caveman on her and hauls her closer to kiss her. On a mouth that parts to give him a taste of liquor, something sweet, and a tiny bit of cigarette that throws him back several years. She makes a small squeaky noise again but kisses him back with so much enthusiasm–and tipsy-induced lack of finesse–that she bites him rather hard.

And he has no idea what the hell is wrong with him, but he treasures that bite. Because it’s his too. His to take and his to give back, though his nip on her plump lower lip is much more gentle and doesn’t draw a tiny bit of blood.

He blinks back to life when he hears a wolfwhistle and even sporadic clapping.

Oops, they have an audience. Well, when has that ever been a problem?

He has half a mind to heft her over his shoulder and just drag her out of here, true to the caveman inside him. Instead, he gives everyone a long, meaningful look, especially the man who must be Alex. Hanna purrs like a satisfied kitten, widens her eyes, then giggles and sways against him.

“You diiiid miss me, huh?” she asks.

Before he can answer, she grabs that ‘friend’ by the hand–by the hand!!!—and drags him closer, accidentally overdoing it so that he all but stumbles into them.

“Tom, meet Alex, who I to’ally didn’t bang in the bathroom.”

Alex has to hold himself up by grabbing at Hanna’s shoulder a bit. Tom is just about to shove him back - again, how dare he - as Alex does so himself, taking a step back on his own.

“Nope,” he says, his eyes half-closed, as he’s certainly more than tipsy himself. “No banging happened.”

He holds out a hand for Tom to shake. “Alex.”

Tom reluctantly removes one arm from around Hanna, especially as she and that stupid Alex guy are blinking at him expectingly, and shakes that super stupid guy’s hand. Rather firmly.

“Tom,” he mutters back, and Hanna looks at him like she’s gotten the best birthday present and Christmas present at the same time. He lets go of that hand quickly.

“Awe, my boys,” she sighs, leaning her head on Tom’s arm, right under his shoulder, and squeezing Alex’s hand. How hasn’t she let go of that yet?!

Stupid guy Alex now looks rather uncomfortable whilst watching everything that happens around them just to not look Tom in the eyes.

Tom himself grinds his teeth so hard, he hopes he doesn’t make a sound.

‘My boys’?! Seriously? Since when does he have to share her with another man? If Hanna wasn’t clinging to him for support right now, he would drive his fist into that super stupid face and… his train of thought and the hazy red veil coming with it are interrupted when Hanna giggles before sighing monumentally.

“I knew you two are too niiiiice and smart to bash each-oh’rs heads in.” She still looks as comically happy as if it’s birthday and Christmas in one. “Y’know what - we should totally go out onna double date. You ‘n’ I, Tom, and Alex ‘n’ Evvvvvie.”

To the man’s credit, he looks absolutely horrified by that idea, even in his tipsy stupor. Tom stretches his lips in what he hopes is a warning snarl as much as a grin.

“Sure, darling. Sounds marvelous.” He forces the words out just to have her beam at him again as if he’s an actual angel sent from heaven to bless her. Let’s hope to god she won’t remember that awful, ridiculous idea once she’s sober. She isn’t all THAT drunk, so Tom is wondering in a corner of his befuddled and more than a little angry mind whether she’s trying some sort of trick, playing some game out of his depth.

On the pretense of disentanngling himsel from her hold and putting the jacket on her, he yanks her hand out of Alex’s. So what if his elbow kind of, sort of, accidentally hits the man in the ribs–she’s so clumsy that coordinating things takes a bit of effort. At least that’s what Tom tells himself, hiding a smirk by ducking his head and pressing a kiss to Hanna’s disheveled hair.

“Oooph,” Tom hears behind him, and needs to press his lips against Hanna’s hair a little firmer to keep himself from chuckling.

“’M not cold, Tom,” his girlfriend - he repeats that in his head - his girlfriend mumbles.

His chuckle is a little more genuine this time. “Yeah, well, it is outside.” He guides Hanna’s arms through the sleeves and holds on to the lapels of her jacket before pressing a kiss to her forehead, to which she smiles and hums happily.

“But we’re not outside,” she then answers loud enough to make Alex snort behind Tom’s back.

When Tom turns himself half around to glare at that stupid man, Alex just grins and holds up his hands. “She’s right ‘bout that.”

Tom opens his mouth, shuts it firmly and turns back to Hanna, who’s looking at the jacket buttons as if they’re rocket science. Counting to ten in his head, he buttons them for her. Seriously, someone give him a medal for being so calm and composed. This is way more difficult than acting.

“Right,” he says curtly, proud of not snapping. “But you’ll be outside in a minute, Hannie-bunny, and then it will be cold.”

Her indignant glare at the use of the nickname she abhors does make him chuckle openly now. He’ll have to pay for that–if she remembers it later.

Because her murder stare makes her look even cuter, he leans cose to her ear and whispers, “Remember what I promised to do to you once you let me take you home?”

It takes her a long moment to get it, he can almost hear the wheels in her brain clicking and turning. Then her eyes widen again. “Oh.” Her teeth dig into her lower lip.

Tom winks at her. “Yes, I suspect there’ll be a lot of ‘oh’ involved. Ready to go, love?”

She nods so eagerly she looks like a puppet. He offers her his arm–and she walks right past it.

“Wait, gotta say bye-bye to Alex.” And with that, she throws herself at the jerk for a hug.

That stupid ass looks like he doesn’t really know what happens to him, but then actually circles his arms around Hanna.

Just when it looks like he’s going to actually plant a kiss on her cheek, Tom snaps. He - and everyone around him - is lucky that he doesn’t snap that stupid man’s neck in half, but just grabs Hanna by the shoulder, pulling her back to him so hard she stumbles into him a little bit accompanied by a squeak.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he grits out.

“That’s enough indeed,” Alex growls and gets closer to both of them. “Don’t handle her like that, man.”

Tom sees red. It’s just a saying but he actually sees red. He pulls himself to his full size and meets Alex halfway, Hanna still clinging to his arm. “Don’t you dare to try handle her at all, man.”

They stare at each other, both breathing hard, and Tom hears his name being called from very very far away in Hanna’s voice.

Hanna feels decidedly more sober suddenly, although she can’t shake the odd feeling that she’s in a badly staged play or something. Haha, how fitting, her boyfriend is an actor. He could probably give her a tip or two.

But he’s currently quivering with angry energy and looks like he’s going to go all Loki on Alex and kick his balls up his throat.

The image almost makes her giggle again, but Tom takes another step forward with her still hanging on, and she realizes how serious this is.

“Tom? Hey!” she tries again. No reaction. He’s still giving Alex the ‘death glare’.

Her co-worker sways a bit, shakes his head once as if to clear it. “What, are ye gonna hit me, Mr. Hollywood? She’s not your…your property, y’know?”

As if that’s even possible, Tom bristles even more. His voice when he speaks is lethally cold and quiet, and she can almost feel the alcohol in her blood drain away.

“Damn right she isn’t. But she’s the love of my life. And she loves me, not you.”

Alex himself gets up in Tom’s face, and Hanna thinks the alcohol must have made him a bit stupid.

“Yeah? All that “lov'off m'life” stuff didn’ work out so well the las’ coupl’ weeks, hmm?“

Hanna sighs loudly just as Tom lets out a mix of a growl and hiss she hasn’t heard from him before. Before she can hold him back - as if she really could do that - Tom has lifted his free arm to shove Alex. Hard.

Her friend stumbles back, just as Hanna tugs on Tom’s arm, a little desperate now. “Hey, hey, hey! Stop. It.”

She’s pretty sure this could turn into a fist fight, if it wasn’t for the other co-workers and patrons to catch up on what’s happening.

Soon Tim stands next to Alex holding him back a little while Peter positions himself next to Tom. Although he looks a little more afraid at the prospect of having to hold back Loki in a fist fight. Hanna can’t blame him.

“Tom!” she tries again, but at that moment he looks more occupied with finding a way to strangle Alex without being held back.

“Tom, I’m going! Tom!” She swallows the lump in her throat and the tears that want to follow. There’s time for that later, after she’s made sure nobody is being killed.

Somehow, Hanna shouting his name filters through to Tom. He blinks, swallows, tries to block out the rush of blood in his ears and shake off the sparks still shooting across his reddish vision.

“I’m going.”

Tom whirls so fast he hears someone gasping and feels several hands trying to grab his arm. Did she says she’s going? Going as in…as in leaving him?! But…but…she can’t! For her sake, he hasn’t even hit the dimwitted dipshit!

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Tom realizes this must be the struggle Dr. Banner is facing whenever he’s in imminent danger of turning into the Hulk. He’s so…so damn angry and helpless and overwhelmed. This isn’t even him, for heaven’s sake, he’s usually so in control.

“Don’t go!” Great, now he sounds desperate on top of everything else.

There’s a snort behind him, and before anyone can so much as blink an eye, Tom’s in Alex’s face again but doesn’t touch him. “I hope to god you really do marry that nurse fiancee of yours–because then I’ll invite myself over and pay her my concolences for ending up with a pathetic loser like you,” he snarls.

Without registering anything else going on around him, he takes three long strides to Hanna’s side and grabs her hand. “We’re leaving,” he announces to nobody in particular–and people around them shift to make way as if he’s Loki threatening them.

They make it out of the door and into the cold air of the night, Tom basically crushing Hanna’s hand, and her mostly stumbling after him.

What the hell has gotten into him? Well, she knows it’s because of Alex, but this does it for him? A hug?

“Let go,” she whispers, but Tom drags her after him. “Tom, I said let go.” It’s a mumble this time, but he still doesn’t seem to care or notice. “Let go of me, you stupid ass!” It’s the shout that seems to get to him and he stops walking so abruptly that she almost falls into him.

“I… I don’t…” he stutters and stammers and Hanna really has no idea what he could possibly say to make this okay in any way.

“Let go of my hand,” she snarls and something in her eyes must be deeply terrifying, because Tom lets go immediately.

“I’m…”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” She marches past him, too angry to even think of anything she could scream at him.

She’s so sober by now she’s half wishing she had drunk another two or three shots because blissful ignorance sounds like heaven right about now.

For a moment, all she can hear is her own footsteps slapping the concrete angrily, and a dull roar of fury in her ears. Then there are Tom’s steps, finally falling in line.

“Hanna?”

Of course he won’t shut up. Of course.

“Don’t ‘Hanna’ me unless you fancy a slap in your face, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

Silence–but only for a moment. “Oh great. You’re allowed to slap me because I’m being protective, but I’m not even allowed to touch a hair on that presumptous dick’s body.”

She slams to a halt so abruptly that Tom has taken three steps on before he realizes she’s not walking anymore. “Protective? Protective?!” It’s a shrill screech she doesn’t even think sounds like her, but she’s this close to exploding.

With much satisfaction she sees Tom flinching before his face turns into a mask of indifference. “Yes, protective. He… he wanted to kiss your cheek.”

It sounds so ridiculous, she has to laugh at him. “He wanted… I can’t even…” Hanna walks on, Tom following close.

“You also smoked. You never smoke. And you’re tipsy. I didn’t want…” he rambles after her as he is following.

“Just stop it, Tom. I can’t even look at you. And I’ve told you I don’t want to talk to you. And believe me,” she turns around one more time, walking backwards now, “it’s better for you if we both shut up now.”

She whirls around again, hating herself for even thinking it was a good idea for Tom to pick her up.

* * *

They walk the rest of the way home in silence, which honestly is a miracle but somehow doesn’t seem to help. It’s as if everything and anything makes things worse. And the silence on the outside is nothing compared to the loud cacophony of words and emotions inside her head.

Above it all, she hears one question, and every repetition breaks her heart a little more.

How are we supposed to go on like this?

In front of the door, Tom steps around her to unlock it, careful not to touch her. When she risks a glance at his face, it’s a nearly blank mask. She knows that face. It’s his “I’m so overwhelmed I’ll break down if I let myself feel” face.

Fuckig hell, how have they let it come this far?

Hanna scrubs a hand over a suddenly wet cheek and storms into the flat, straight to the bedroom.

The first thing she sees is that bloody potted orchid sitting on the bed from when Tom must’ve snapped his selfie–and that’s the last straw somehow, opening the floodgates for real until she’s sobbing and half-blind with tears.

He’s rooted in the hallway where he can hear the loud sobs coming from the bedroom. He’s also too afraid to enter or to even make a noise. Jesus fucking Christ, he really messed that up royally. She couldn’t even look at him.

He can’t look at himself if he’s honest. Has his ex really messed with his mind that much? And then that fucking Alex guy? How has Tom’s mind become such a bloody crazy whirlwind?

With a sigh he slowly walks to the living room and slumps on the couch. That’ll be another night spent here, he’s sure of it. He’s got no idea what could change that.

So he sits and waits. Waits for ten minutes or so, before the door to their bedroom opens. This time it’s not the shuffle of bare feet that alerts him, but the sound of shoe cladded ones.

Tom stands up and looks at her… and blanches. Maybe he even faints, he has no idea. His hearts stops, his head pounds and his hands become cold and clammy.

She’s dressed. Fully dressed, still in her jacket and this time there IS a bag over her shoulder. And she’s still crying and his heart breaks.

“I,” she starts and swallows and then takes a calming breath. At least Tom thinks so, he can’t do anything else than stare at that bag. “I’m not breaking up. Okay?” She nods and he does too. “But Tom, we do need a break. I have no idea, how we made it through these two weeks, and obviously tonight showed that we should have done this two weeks ago.”

He swallows. She’s leaving. He can’t even register what she’s saying. He still stares at that bag.

“I’ll go and stay with some friends for a while. And… think, I guess? Think about how tonight could happen? And maybe you should do the same.”

She’s wiping away angry tears now. “I’ll call you,” she whispers, then turns around and the door shuts.

She’s gone. Tom stares at the wall for a few more minutes then goes to the bedroom. She’s obviously thrown a few things in that stupid ugly bag, as some socks are still spread on the bedroom floor.

Her orchid is still on her side on the bed, Tom realises as he lies down.


End file.
